Down to Clouds

 [Poetry], Sonnets, The Timid Leaper  Comments Off on Down to Clouds
Aug 312011

I'd thought life without Love no life at all,
And my life like a parachutist's fall
Had readied-up with a silken snarl
And without a parachutist's safety-pull.
I was dead-ready to meet the all-in-all;
I had all needed: gravity and a fool.
My heart never mistrusted God was cruel.

On my way down to clouds, through clouds to clods,
I thought how the silk weight on my belly pulled,
How silk and air stretched tight would make a shroud,
And what an act, inordinate and proud,
Living on would be -just as if allowed--
Before the cruel throne and crowded face of God,
My life one long fall as if dead and mourned.

A Dream Dislodged

 [Poetry], The Sword Inside  Comments Off on A Dream Dislodged
Aug 292011

Disorderly love falls on our lives
Like a dream in which we die
And cannot awake or dream otherwise
And only this dream is before our eyes

Ritual and rote and stigmatized
Inescapable and inordinately stylized
A sleepwalker's temptless step's imposed
And we see only the dream and are blind


 [Poetry], The Sword Inside  Comments Off on Snowbound
Aug 292011

A silent fibbing moonlight washes
Distorted shadows of the dissenting sun
Over each snow-molested branch and bush
Arranged outside with a congregation's grace
For the terminal minutes of our love-embrace
Happening behind an unrolled windowsash.
You had wanted to hurt me, and did.
Truth was my only tribulation.

Your hands hung, inert and underfed,
Along the sofa's arms, overstuffed and wan,
Resisting the reconciliation of my touch
- And you pulled away, besides, your face,
Quick and moonlike, from my near face
Hurrying forward in a rudimentary rush
That had so often sought the complexity of bed.
Truth was my only tribulation.

It was then, snowbound and alone, you had said
Words that made all things one
And useless, in the gelid December hush
Whose winds diminished to a sparse trace
In the outer emptiness I could not face,
Too full of the moon's pale refracted crush.
I don't know how all this roomy dark occurred.
Truth is my only tribulation.

So few tears

 [Poetry], Nobody Poems  Comments Off on So few tears
Aug 282011
So few tears to tell the story;
Have they gone away, like the edges of papers
Trailing papercuts, and the most excited letters lost
On the margins of the undersheets?
Sometimes a freshness will surprise us first,
A frittery coolness or itch against the cheek
As strange as the dream it wakes us from, the same
Sense of the seminal real, shorn up by fragments the same.
Each tear had risen like a purpose,
Tipped with passionate wetness from obliterated sight.
Love is blind; so, too, grief and care,
The silly joy of remembering just how, just where.

Is it a death to know you gone

 [Poetry], The Departed Friend  Comments Off on Is it a death to know you gone
Aug 212011
Is it a death to know you gone,
	 Separation's wail at the verge
	 Where tide on tide may pile and merge
While I sigh unsolaced, alone?

It is death, or death's live semblance
	 To trade high love for sorrow's hole,
	 To peer in pits for the absent soul,
Braver laughter, a brother's glance.

Yet others before have I lost,
	 Their unsyllabled all made death's,
	 Pilfered lives that in coffins rest,
Nor can I reckon up the cost.

What resolution will recompense

 [Poetry], The Departed Friend  Comments Off on What resolution will recompense
Aug 212011
What resolution will recompense
	 His companions for the pang
	 Of his departure?  What chimed gong
Will make his going make new sense?

How after harrowed grief resolve
	 To live whole again?  Does the leaf
	 Shorn from the trunk that gave belief
Ever re-ascend to former love?

Here's no parable to mumble;
	 We make our dying sounds above
	 The grave that garners all our love:
The open door unable

To accommodate return.
	 Let us gather where we are blown;
	 Let us hold what we do not own
But a moment, and make return.

When the briar brave entwines my grave

 [Poetry], The Departed Friend  Comments Off on When the briar brave entwines my grave
Aug 212011
When the briar brave entwines my grave,
	 And heart, kept cold, is fallow laid
	 Beneath the green and twisted braid
What rose will come to show me saved?

What rose from all the horrored heart
	 Will fly harried from the dour hole?
	 What emblem of the buried soul
Will rise to tell my harrowed part?

If twixt rounds of panting fight or dance
	 All is 'catch our breaths' to kill again
	 And love is all love unspoken
We're but two tigers in a trance

Who pace and leer and wait to leap
	 Who've lungs for roar yet none for love;
	 Who toy and tear the departing dove
And too late let our anger sleep.